Mother’s Prototype: Pilot

Mother leaves instructions in a hat box

Secular shiva with Tastykake, bagels and Pale Russians

I ate at this kitchen table from age four to fourteen

People finally leave and I go to her room

Mom retreated to her room for years

I play with Lincoln Logs just outside

She leaves the door slightly open

I watch and listen

She types, smokes and drinks coffee

Tentatively, I explore her desk and adjacent closet

On a shelf, I find the hat box and inside the plastic head

The crown comes off revealing the envelope

Typed instructions and hand-drawn illustrations

And a vial of fine gold crystals

These sit next to me now as I write

The head is freaking me out a bit

Scenography (Sc.)

"Scenography" refers to our performance notes

For example, here we discussed projecting a facsimile of the instructions

Read ALL instructions carefully BEFORE proceeding

Note: 

I have summarised the instructions here

I have included a facsimile of the instructions as an appendix

[1] Install plastic head onto IBM Selectric, as shown

[2] Install vial of crystals

[3] Turn power on and wait for green light

[4] Insert sheet of paper from envelope “B”

[5] Type calibration phrase:

“Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party.”

[6] Press Return key ONCE and wait

Sc.

The platen rotates and the text disappears into the machine

Crystals melt and flow down a thin channel

From an opening above the keyboard emerges a small cigarette

Humming and periodic grinding

Wisps of vapour rise

[7] Inhale deeply for five seconds, hold for five, exhale for five

[8] Without pause, repeat for a second inhalation

[9] Place the cigarette and lighter into the glass tray

[10] Lean back in chair

Of course, I am not about to do this

Not without further investigation

I call Scott, my best friend, who knows about such things

He arranges for an analysis of the crystals

We meet at Bob’s Big Boy on Route 22 and I give him a sample

He calls the next morning: the crystals are [redacted]

I have heard about this

Back in Mom’s room, I begin typing

I write about Mom and life and death

(Used to write this way every day, for years – but stopped)

Now I carefully follow the instructions to completion

And lean back in the chair

I begin hearing voices, as if from a radio

I’ve heard them before, I remember this from my childhood

Then and now, I look around the house

No radio or television is on, nobody on the phone

I can’t understand what they’re saying

And I smell cigarette smoke

I lean forward and turn off the typewriter

And there, between the IBM Selectric and the glass ashtray

I see Mom, seated at a table in a Parisian café

In animated conversation with a man and a woman

Perhaps her thesis supervisors

Several other patrons talking, smoking, drinking and laughing

A guitarist plays on a small corner stage

Mom notices me, smiles and waves excitedly

“Come and join us!” she calls out

But I don’t know how to get down there

I suddenly feel self-conscious and embarrassed

I apologise saying I have work to do but I’ll come later

I turn away and begin looking busy, going through papers on her desk

I feel guilty – particularly now that she’s gone

I hear the radio voices again

It’s Mom saying, “It’s ok – take the elevator”

At least, I imagine her saying that

I awaken in the chair

Look around the desk – no café

Didn’t expect to see one

I go downstairs and make coffee

Sit at the kitchen table and read the instructions again

I call Scott and begin describing my experience

He is immediately confused

Says we haven’t spoken since he left the house yesterday

We certainly didn’t meet at Bob’s Big Boy

“You must have dreamt it, dude,” he says

I return to Mom’s room determined to capture what I could recall

There is text on the paper in the machine (see attachment)

I do not remember typing this

I’m leaving shortly but wanted first to capture these notes

It’s two and a half hours north into the mountains of central Pennsylvania

I still smell cigarette smoke and hear those radio voices